Chapter #14How to Have Four Eyes But No Glasses by: Seuzz   It's like having a kind of double vision --
And the thought of double vision causes you to fumble your hands to your face. No glasses.
But it's Connor Hutchison who wears glasses. Will Prescott—and you're definitely Will Prescott—doesn't.
It's like having double vision, you were thinking. Like you've got two sets of eyes in your head, connected to two different brains, and you can switch between them. You see only one world, but you can see it in—Well, in two different ways.
Your truck, for instance. It feels completely normal and familiar. It's your truck and it's always been your truck, and you sink comfortably into the groove that your butt has worn in the bench. But at the same time it's also someone else's truck, and you feel a little thrill at running your hands over the steering wheel, and you marvel a little at the thought that you are sitting in Will Prescott's truck, and you were driving it with Will Prescott's body—
No, it's your body. Because you're Will Prescott. A sudden fear seizes you. What if that feeling of being Will Prescott starts to fade, to be replaced by the feeling that you're Connor Hutchison? At the moment that feeling of being Hutchison has fled, and you are firmly yourself again. But while you weren't looking, while you were sinking into that feeling of being Connor, for a moment it really did feel like you were inhabiting someone else's body.
Tentatively, you let that feeling creep up on you again. It comes over you from the back of your skull. This is what it's like to be Connor Hutchison and to be sitting in Will Prescott's truck wearing Will Prescott's body.
Yeah, there's that feeling again. But it's not nearly as strong, because you were watching for it. It's back to having that sense of double vision, of seeing one thing inside and behind another thing: of seeing one truck overlapping perfectly with another, and thinking of them as two different trucks. Thinking of them as your truck and as someone else's truck.
The bell must have rung by now. You're going to be late. Late for—
You pause with your hand on the door handle. Whose class? Oh, right. Walberg's class. The corner of your mouth twitches. You had him two years ago, for history. You liked Walberg. He didn't take shit from anyone, and took the piss out of Gibbs and Moran and the other football players. It'll be fun to—
Mm. There it is again. That slip into Connor's brain. It's going to make for a tricky day balancing between yourself and him.
* * * * *
"You have a tardy slip, Mr. Prescott?" Walberg says. His deep voice and long, drooping moustache make him look exactly like a walrus, as if his name wasn't enough to suggest the resemblance.
You stop in the doorway. "Since when do we need tardy slips?" you blurt out.
"Since right now, since you ask."
A snicker runs around the room.
"Aw, gimme a break, Mr. Dubya. I was up till three and the coffee hasn't kicked in." You hold up the cup as evidence, and can hardly believe you're backtalking him this way.
He raises his eyebrows. "I don't care if you were up till three, ran the clock backwards to eight, then stayed up till three a second time. If you want in this class, report to the office for a tardy slip."
"Well, what if I don't want in the class but have to come anyway? Do I need a tardy slip then?"
You can feel the class hold its collective breath. Mr. Walberg stares at you.
"I'm only asking about the logic," you continue. "You said if I want in the class, not if I need to come to class or if I'm going to come to class—"
"Sit. Down. Mr. Prescott. And come see me when school is out."
"For detention?"
"Exactly."
"Excellent! I could use the study break."
Walberg stares at you hard for a long minute, then resumes whatever he was talking about when you came in.
Caleb is also staring at you, with wide eyes. Then he freezes, and leans in close to peer at you, until Walberg calls his attention back to the front of the room. You take out a pen and start scribbling notes.
Okay, this isn't as much fun as you thought it might be. Connor could razz Mr. Walberg freely because he and the teacher got along great. But Walberg thinks you're Will Prescott—and he's right, you are—so you'd better keep it under control. When you see him after school, just apologize and tell him you didn't mean him any disrespect. And detention will be okay. It's not like there's any place you really have to be.
Except Starbucks. Shit! Your shift starts at one-thirty—
No, that's Connor, and he'll be there to cover it. Focus, Will!
And you do focus, on the notes and on the lecture, and the sense of being Connor Hutchison fades into a background hum.
* * * * *
You get another kick in the side of the head on your way out of the classroom when your eye rakes over Lisa and Geoff. You were supposed to go to the movies with them yesterday and you completely blew them off! Not that they'll mind—Mansfield would have been totally okay with it—but it'll make you look like a flake to Lisa.
So you call her name, and she turns. "Hey, sorry about standing you up yesterday at the theater."
She frowns slightly. "Yeah, I was wondering what happened to you. Was everything okay?"
"I just got distracted, I was hanging out with Connor and Justin again right after lunch. Did you have fun over at their place on Saturday?"
"Yeah, thanks for inviting me." And she smiles over at Mansfield, as though he had anything to do with her being there. "I'm sorry you missed the movie, though. It was good."
"Maybe you and I could get together over at Starbucks after class," you suggest, "you could tell me about—"
"You have detention." That's Kelsey Blankenship reminding you of that, and she brushes between you and Lisa without looking at either of you.
"Hey, can I get an 'excuse me' from you?" you shout after her, on instinct.
She stops and turns on you, and the disdain in her eyes is unmistakable. "No, but you can give me one. You were standing fight in front of the door."
"Hey, look in the classroom." You point back behind you. "You can get from any point in there to the door without going through—" But she's already gone, and Amanda Ferguson, trailing in her wake, is shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
"She's right you know, Will," says Lisa. "You've got detention, and you're standing in the doorway."
"Just because her dad owns the biggest car dealership in town doesn't mean she owns the whole freaking road. I don't see anyone else shoving me out of the way!"
Caleb shoves you out of the way, and pushes you out the door. "I wanna talk to you," he says.
"I got class!"
"George Clooney's got class. You've got attitude. Come with me." He drags you to the library and into the stacks and pushes you against a wall. "This isn't gonna hurt," he says as he puts his hand to your face. "Not until after I slap you around."
But you slap his hand away first. "I'm not wearing a mask, Caleb. This is me."
"Bullshit, Hutchison. Or are you Carr?" He reaches for you again.
And again you push him away. "What do you want me to tell you to convince you it's me?"
"I'm really hoping it's not you—" You have to push his hand away. "Because otherwise you're drunk off your ass or something."
"I'm punch drunk from this morning at the cemetery. Here, this'll—Remember right after I picked you up last night, and we were turning onto Orlando, and you told me you thought you saw a cop coming?"
Caleb stares at you. "What am I putting in the time capsule for Walberg?"
"A thumb drive full of porn." Memories flash to life, like a pinball machine on overdrive. "Oh man, you're gonna get an A on the paper for him, he's gonna—!"
"Are you high?" Caleb gasps. "Don't you see I'm gonna hafta—"
"Okay, okay! Never mind." You resettle your grip on yourself—that was Connor Hutchison taking control briefly, but you're certain that Hutchison's instinct is correct, that Walberg actually would be impressed by Caleb's idea. "But see? I know the answer to anything you throw at me, so it's me."
"Hm." The bell rings. "Well, whatever, now we're both late. Just keep a lid on the stupid, okay?"
"What do you care?"
"Maybe I shouldn't." His tone has turned sharp. "And maybe it's not such a good idea, you hanging out with Hutchison and Carr, if you're going to pick up some of their attitude." With a mistrustful glance back, he leaves for class.
And you hustle on to Hawks's class. He was another teacher that Hutchison liked, and you like him too. (Mostly.) But you slow down as you reach the room, and peer in through the door before going in. There's Tilley, sitting next to the chair you should be occupying. But you don't see Brad Murphy or Andy Tackett or Tim Gerard. They must be skipping. And you know where they'd be skipping, too. Out by the portables. It'd be fun to skip with them.
Unless they're somewhere else because of the other guys who sometimes go to the portables when they're skipping classes. That's exactly where you'd run into Joshua Call.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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